SR819: THE MISSING 18 MINUTES
By Holmes (14KB)
 
FBI HEADQUARTERS
10:21 PM
 
Thump. Thump. Whack. Clatter. Thump. Thump. Whack. Clatter.
 
When he was alone late at night, and the lights were off in the bullpen, Agent
Mulder could imagine that he was back in his rabbit warren of a basement
office. Bored, depressed, and angry, he threw sharpened pencils into the
ceiling to heighten that illusion. Not only did pencil throwing remind him of
his good old days in the basement, the possibility of one or more pencils
falling down and thwacking the grim and treacherous A.D.Kersh on the head
added a certain piquancy to his efforts. //I didn't realize how good I had it
with Skinner...even if he did yell about putting my butt in a sling nearly every
time I saw him//
 
He looked up as he heard footsteps in the hallway. //Speak of the devil! My
god! He looks like he could fall over any minute!//
Curious, Mulder got up and discreetly followed the A.D to his office. He
counted to 100, and then walked in...and his jaw dropped. At work, he couldn't
remember seeing the man loosen his tie, or so much as unbutton the top button
of his collar. The sight of the immaculate, professional A.D. Skinner lying on
his couch, in the dark, not only sans coat and tie and glasses, but with his
SHIRTTAIL hanging out, was a shocker. Mulder swallowed. Lying there that way
with his eyes closed, his handsome features so pale, so still, his hand on his
stomach in a gesture of self-comfort, the big man looked uncharacteristically
vulnerable.
 
"What is it, Agent Mulder?" Skinner said, not moving nor opening his eyes.
 
//How did he know who I was without opening his eyes? Is he that weak that he
can't turn to look at me? I think he is!//
"I just, uh... I thought I'd poke my head in and say hey," Mulder said.
//Jesus, I sounded lame, but it's better than pretending I have a professional
reason for visiting, or gushing about how worried I am about him.//
 
"Hey," Skinner said weakly.
 
Mulder smiled. " What, are you sleeping one off?" //We both know that's
bullshit, but I can still hope. You're so run down from stress and overwork,
that you've finally gotten that bleeding ulcer you've been developing for the
last 5 years. The doctors will throw your stubborn, surly ass in the hospital
for a couple of weeks at least.//
 
"No, I was having trouble seeing," Skinner said nonchalantly."It's nothing. I
just didn't think I should drive."
 
//Oh. Shit. That's far worse than I expected. Maybe it's still nothing...maybe
he just pulled an all-nighter, and his eyes are gritty...maybe he just needs to
sleep...maybe I'm full of shit..// "You going to be all right, sir?" Mulder
said, allowing some of the fear he felt to tinge his voice.
 
Skinner didn't say a word, and didn't move a muscle.
"Sir?" he repeated, feeling the panic rising in him.
 
The A.D. gave no sign that he heard him.
 
"That does it," Mulder said, striding over to Kimberly's telephone, "I'm
calling an ambulance."
 
"NO! It's nothing," Skinner said, his dark brown eyes snapping open in alarm.
He struggled to get up, then obviously overcome with exhaustion, sunk back
down on the couch.
 
"Nothing my ass! At least let me call Scully," Mulder pleaded.
 
"NO!" Skinner yelled, "There's nothing anyone can do for me."
 
"Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Skinner?" Mulder snarled, picking up the
receiver. "I'm going to call for either an ambulance or for Scully. Which one
will it be?"
 
"You don't understand, Mulder," Skinner said miserably.
 
Mulder set the receiver back down, walked over to his unwilling patient, and
knelt beside him. He grabbed his arms and stared intently into Skinner's eyes.
"Then help me to understand. How do you know that there's nothing that anyone
can do for you?" Frustrated by Skinner's silence, Mulder squeezed his arms to
his side and shook him.
 
Skinner turned pale and yelped. "SHIT!!!
 
"What was that about," Mulder said wild-eyed with fear. "Where are you hurt?
Answer me!" he added shaking him again roughly.
 
"AHHHH, GOD! It's nothing," Skinner groaned, clenching his jaw and folding his
arms over his chest.
 
Mulder narrowed his eyes, and said, "Hands to your side, or over your head."
 
Skinner glared at him, "As much as this may surprise you to find this out,
you're not my fucking boss..."
 
"So what? I'm checking you out, whether you like it or not," Mulder said
grimly.
 
Skinner snorted, and closed his eyes.
 
Mulder angrily yanked Skinner's arms over his head, and held them there.
"Don't move until I tell you to. I mean it!"
 
Skinner opened his dark brown eyes, and they were huge with surprise. His
mouth opened ever so slightly and looked inviting. The golden light from the
only light source in the room, a small lamp, caressed and accented the
sculptural perfection of his bare head, feline cheekbones, and strong jawline,
its low light level making him look younger than his years, even boyish.
 
He was beautiful. Looking at him, Mulder almost forgot why he had Skinner in
this position in the first place. After taking a moment to compose himself, he
slowly pulled away, never once taking his eyes off his prisoner.
 
Skinner gasped when Mulder's slender hand rested on his stomach.
 
"Did that hurt?" Mulder said sharply, pressing down slightly.
 
Skinner shook his head.
 
Satisfied that he wasn't lying, Mulder continued his examination.
 
Skinner watched shyly as Mulder's long elegant fingers gently slid the white
shirt over his stomach until his muscular chest was totally exposed. He
shivered and bit his lip as they lingered there just a bit longer than
necessary.
 
//This is got to be my imagination. I think he's relieved that I'm taking
over like this....// Then he saw what the A.D. had been trying to hide, and
became scared and furious all over again. "You call that nothing? That bruise
is bigger than my fist! How the hell did you get this?"
 
"This morning at the boxing match," Skinner said closing his eyes again.
 
"I take it you lost," Mulder said wryly.
 
"Yeah. I got dizzy, collapsed, and ended up going to the hospital."
 
"Anything unusual happen there?"
 
Skinner nodded, "While I was there, I got a computer telephone call on my
cell phone. The message said that I had less than 24 hours to live."
 
"JESUS!" Mulder said, "Did you tell your doctor?"
 
"Now there's an idea! Why would I have done that? What good would it have
done?" Skinner snapped. "It wouldn't have given him the first idea of what to
look for, or where to look."
 
Stung, Mulder stood up, but Skinner grabbed him by the wrist and weakly tugged
at him until he relented and knelt back down. "Mulder, the doctor had already
taken x-rays and blood tests. Nothing showed up, so I didn't know what more he
could do without something specific to go on," he said contritely. After I
got a clean bill of health, I thought the call was just some asshole's idea of
a joke, and I blew it off."
 
Mulder nodded slowly, "Obviously, it wasn't. Do you know who could have done
this?"
 
"No," Skinner said, looking away.
 
Mulder grabbed Skinner's chin, and pulled him back to face him. "Yes you do."
 
"No, I don't, and if I DID, I wouldn't tell you here!" Skinner growled.
 
"I'm calling Scully," he said, releasing his chin.
 
"I won't tell her either," Skinner said turning away.
 
Mulder grabbed Skinner's face between both hands, and forced him to face him
again. "You play it however you have to play it, sir, but I *will* find out
who did this to you. I know why you're afraid to talk to me, but don't think
I'm giving up because of that. You're my friend, and I won't sit back and do
nothing when you need me."
 
Skinner sighed, "Mulder, I appreciate your concern, but it's hopeless."
 
"As if that ever stopped me before," Mulder grinned.
 
As if," Skinner agreed, "What can I say?"
 
"You don't have to say a damned thing," Mulder said looking into his eyes
fondly. He meant it too. The look of relief and gratitude on Skinner's face
said what he couldn't bring himself to say outloud.
 
Regretfully, Mulder pulled himself away, and made the call to Scully, despite
the swiftness with which that daunting guarded look reappeared on Skinner's
face. //Tough luck, tough guy. You're just going to have to get used to having
people help you... and as soon as you're safe from this latest shitstorm, you're
going to find out exactly how much.//
 
THE END
 
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